


Silver for my fox

by JessicaMariana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMariana/pseuds/JessicaMariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft is secretly organising a surprise birthday dinner for Greg who is utterly oblivious. But that’s not the only surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver for my fox

”Oh, yeah,  _t_ _hat_  is nice.” 

Greg’s voice echoed in the small, tiled bathroom. The warm water of the shower rushed over his naked body as he tried getting himself reheated. He had just spent several hours out in the cold winter air of London listening to Sherlock’s deductions of their latest crime scene. Sherlock had seemed unusually agitated about this investigation and dragged out their time at the crime scene more than necessary, and as a result left the poorly-dressed Greg shivering in the snow. 

After long days like these Greg enjoyed some time alone, relaxing in whichever way he saw fit. Usually he’d just take a quick shower to get refreshed and then call Mycroft to ask him out. And that was his plan for today as well. 

When getting out of the shower, wrapped in a thick bathrobe, still feeling cold, Greg sent Mycroft the customary message to ask if he was available for dinner later that evening. A quick reply came: 

_Apologies:_ _long night_ _ahead._

Greg sighed at the reply and felt that the message lacked more than a little feeling. Maybe a hint of Mycroft being even a bit sorrier than he’d seemed to be would have been nice. Only writing “apologies” wasn’t acceptable. 

However, Greg decided to spend his suddenly free night in front of the telly with pizza and beer – just like a bachelor. With Mycroft around he didn’t get to do that much, especially since Greg had started to spend more time at his house which was so posh, so clean, that it just felt wrong bringing a pizza into it. 

Greg had, nevertheless, thought about asking Mycroft if they would ever move in together. But the timing had never been right. Greg was also slightly torn by the suggestion since he knew he’d miss all these calm moments living like a bachelor when he could do whatever he wanted without anyone judging him for it. But the two of them had been going steady for two years now and he felt like it was about time to take the next step in their relationship. Besides, Mycroft worked a lot and spent countless hours a week at the Diogenes Club, so Greg would get his free time after all.

He decided then that the next time he went to dinner with Mycroft he’d ask him – no matter the timing.

 

Greg flopped down on his old leather couch and was just about to call and place his order at the pizzeria down the block when a new message arrived with a beep. It was Mycroft again. 

 _I know what you're thinking. Don’t get pizza;_ _come over to my house_ _instead. I’ve got something better_ _waiting for you._

Greg read the message a couple of times before setting the phone down on the coffee table. He frowned as he watched the phone. He felt annoyed. This wasn’t the first time Mycroft asked Greg over without being home. And of course he wasn’t surprised over the fact that Mycroft knew what he had been thinking. He knew that if he didn't go, Mycroft would stop his pizza from being delivered and probably get his power cut off or something. He did like to be extravagant.

Giving in, Greg heaved himself off the couch and started getting dressed. He put on a pair of black slacks with a matching jacket and a navy button down underneath – simple yet dashing, if he’d say so himself. He even added a tiny splash of cologne in case Mycroft did get back a bit earlier. He then typed a short answer before stepping back out into the cold. 

_Alright._

  

Soon Greg arrived by taxi at the front door of Mycroft’s big house. Fresh snow had softly started to fall from the dark sky and made the streets of the big city eerily quiet. The street lamps were lighting up and here and there a few people hurried to get out of the cold. 

Greg neither rang the door-bell nor knocked on the wooden door. Mycroft had since long given him a spare key, telling him to come over whenever he felt like it. But Greg hadn’t seen it as an official invitation to stay as long as he wanted so he had always felt guilty if he stayed too long, and therefore always ended up going home after no more than a day. 

As Greg stepped inside and took his thick coat off, this time remembering to dress himself properly, he heard soothing piano music come from the sitting room to his left. He peered into the vast room, finding it empty. A record was playing in the far corner. Greg found a note addressed to him on the coffee table in front of the lit fireplace.

 

 _Dinner will be_ _served in the dining room whenever you want it. Have a drink if you wish. I'll_ _join you_ _soon. – Mycroft_

 

Greg looked around the room. He was already feeling hungry having spent so much energy on trying to keep warm earlier. A drink also sounded nice, knowing it would definitely redden his cheeks a bit and get his blood pumping.

Having located Mycroft's bottle of fine whiskey – the one he always had a glass of after a long day – Greg poured himself a glass. He sniffed at the auburn liquid before sipping it. Memories of when Mycroft drank it filled his mind: The two of them sitting next to each other one the sofa in the darkness, listening to the silence; Greg lighting a fire while Mycroft put a record on; dancing together, slowly.

A smile spread across Greg’s face at the memories and he went across the hallway to the dining room.

“Mycroft?” Greg was surprised at seeing him sitting at the dinner table, waiting.

“How nice of you to come, dear,” Mycroft said and got up, walking around the table. He pulled out a chair and gestured for Greg to sit down. Greg sat down in the antique chair at the long table and looked around as Mycroft returned to his seat opposite of him.

"I thought you were working tonight," Greg said, confused and took a swig of his whiskey. 

"I never mentioned work, did I?" Mycroft smiled as he clasped his hands together under his chin. "I imagine you must be hungry. I told Sherlock to go easy on you today, but I guess he never does what he's told… especially during a case like this." 

"Yes, well, it was a tough one," Greg chuckled, remembering Sherlock's rants.

"And now you can relax."

Mycroft got up again and went through the double doors behind him into the kitchen to fetch their dinner. Greg had to admit he was more than astonished when he saw what he was being served. Mycroft carried out a large flat, carton box which he placed on the table between them.

"Pizza? How come?" Greg asked stunned, his voice thick with disbelief as he watched Mycroft open the lid. The aroma filling the air was heavenly - melted cheese and grilled meat on perfectly baked dough, just on the edge of being too well baked. It was mouth-watering. Greg’s stomach rumbled, screaming to get a piece of the deliciousness.

“Happy birthday,” Mycroft placed his hands over Greg’s on the table and smiled.

“But my birthday’s tomorrow.”

“You worked all night again, didn’t you?”

Greg had indeed worked long past midnight the night before, forgetting that the days changed at 12:00 am and that it was in fact his birthday.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment and smiled back at Mycroft who started serving him a slice of the dinner.

“I do have some beer in the fridge as well, if you’d like it later,” Mycroft pointed out.

Greg couldn’t believe it. Mycroft had actually gone out of his way and not made an expensive dinner just because he knew how much Greg enjoyed a simple meal and some beer.

 

After the pizza had been slowly devoured between Greg and Mycroft and a couple of beer bottles had been opened and emptied, Greg leaned back in his chair with a big grin spreading on his lips.

“That was absolutely delicious. Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure. It’s actually nice to not have to cook every night. It let’s me concentrate on you. Another beer?” Mycroft held up another bottle, but Greg had to decline it – he was feeling too full for his own good. “Well then,” Mycroft continued, once again curling his fingers together to place them under his chin. “There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Would you care to join me in the sitting room?”

With Mycroft’s words Greg remembered the promise he’d made himself to bring up his suggestion of moving in together.

“Mycroft, before you say anything, there is something _I_ have been meaning to ask _you._ ” He started as Mycroft rounded the table to take Greg’s hand in his.

He led Greg back into the sitting room and stopped him in the middle of the floor. Mycroft gently wrapped an arm around his waist and began to slowly spin him around, dancing to the still-playing record. Greg went with it, but his question was not forgotten.

“Mycroft,” he tried again, his voice low and serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you---”

“Please, Greg,” Mycroft said calmly and closed his eyes as they kept spinning. Both men were silent for a moment. “Let me go first.”

Greg waited patiently as the song changed to an even slower one.

“Can we stop?” Greg said, starting to feel dizzy, adding to the light-headedness he was already feeling from the beer and whiskey.

“Of course. What else do you want?” Mycroft stopped abruptly and took a step back to look at Greg. “Me, on the floor?”

Greg didn’t know what to respond. He wasn’t sure if Mycroft was being snide or serious. With that neutral facial expression of his it was hard to tell. But then Mycroft actually got down on one knee and took Greg’s left hand in his.

“Dear Gregory,” he said as his free hand slipped into his jacket pocket.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Could it? Greg’s mind suddenly went completely blank.

“Would you…” Mycroft smiled up at him, his eyes locking with Greg’s.

Greg unconsciously stopped breathing, holding one hand against his racing heart, waiting for Mycroft to continue. They could both feel the suspense filling the room. The tension made Greg feel sick. He’d never liked surprises.

Mycroft produced a small blue box and opened it ever so slowly. Greg leaned forward to peek into it, fearing what he might see. With a gasp his eyes fixed themselves upon a silver ring, embedded into the white cushion inside. Shock hit him like a slap in the face. Mycroft was serious.

“Would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?” Mycroft finally finished his sentence and looked expectantly at Greg who wasn’t going to reply immediately. He might have had his answer ready, without doubt, but he thought Mycroft should feel the suspense he’d just gone through, feeling even dizzier for not breathing properly.

Greg tried taking a few deep breaths, but they were shaky. His proposal now seemed like child’s play in comparison to Mycroft’s and the thought of it sent a welcomed wave of relief through his tensed body.

Finally he let a wide smile spread across his face as he said yes.

“A silver ring for my silver fox,” he hummed and kissed Greg’s hand countless of times as he slid the ring onto his left ring finger. “It is in fact white gold and not silver. I thought this colour would suit you better than gold.”

“I love it,” Greg murmured whilst admiring the smooth surface, running his right index finger over it.

Mycroft got back up on his feet and gave Greg a long hug. Greg kissed him on the cheek and then on his lips as he leaned back.

Mycroft gladly replied the kiss and pressed himself closer to Greg, sliding his arms around his waist. They stood only kissing softly for a moment as the last song of the record ended and a faint scratching sound replaced it.

Mycroft let go of his fiancée and went to turn the record player off. He then returned to Greg’s side and kissed him again. He let his tongue swipe over Greg’s bottom lip, asking to be let in. Greg happily opened up and their tongues pressed together. Their breathing quickly became heavier.

“Should we take this upstairs?” Mycroft breathed, trying to recompose himself.

“Yes,” Greg agreed, taking his hands and started for the grand staircase in the hallway.

Well in Mycroft’s bedroom, Greg started to eagerly undress himself. Mycroft stood by his side letting his hands slide down his lover’s arms along with his jacket. Greg unbuttoned his shirt as Mycroft shifted behind him to tug it off. Greg now stood in only his trousers, having kicked off his shoes as well. He was just about to unbuckle his belt when Mycroft stopped him, placing his hand over Greg’s. Greg looked over his shoulder to see Mycroft smiling.

“Let me,” he whispered softly into Greg’s ear. His warm breath sent a jolt through Greg’s body, straight to his groin.

Greg reluctantly let his arms fall to his sides as Mycroft unbuckled and unzipped his trousers which soon lay pooled around his ankles. Mycroft kneeled to grab Greg by the calf and asked him to lift one leg at the time to get out of the heap of fabric. But Greg was unable to move, Mycroft’s touch sending shivers through his exposed body. His warm breath caressed Greg’s legs so nicely.

“Gregory,” Mycroft said and looked up, but his eyes didn’t reach his face – they lingered at Greg’s crotch. He was already fully erect, his cock jutting out, trying to defy gravity. Mycroft swallowed. He rarely saw Greg from an angle like this and wanted to savour the moment.

Greg peered down, feeling the sudden tension in his body disappear. He noticed Mycroft’s eyes locked to his cock and teased him by sliding a hand down his abdomen and up the length of the erection. His cock twitched at the touch and a small bead of precome appeared at the tip. Both men moaned in unison; Greg by this own tightening grasp and Mycroft by the sight of it.

Mycroft got back on his feet and grabbed Greg by his hips, pressing into him as he leaned forward for another kiss. He started directing Greg backwards, towards the king sized four-poster bed.  Greg stumbled onto his back as the mattress hit the back of his knees and he shook his trousers onto the hardwood floor.

Before continuing onto the bed, Mycroft undressed himself, leaving Greg to lustfully gaze at him. It didn’t take long, though; Mycroft seemed very eager – his usual calm facade long gone. He straddled Greg’s naked figure. Their kiss continued; it was passionate: tongues were being pressed together, swirling around each other and then being sucked at by one or the other’s soft lips. Now and then a set of teeth would gently nip at a lip and their breaths were being inhaled and exhaled by one another.

“Mycroft,” Greg broke the kiss to take a deep breath. His face was flushed and his eyes half-lidded. Mycroft looked just as dishevelled – even his typically well-kept hair was tousled as Greg had ran a hand through it.

Mycroft needed no more words to know what Greg wanted. He swiftly slipped off the bed to reposition himself between Greg’s legs. He stroked his hands up Greg’s thighs as he leaned forward to lick the precome off the tip of his cock. Greg shuddered at the warm caress of his tongue which slid down the shaft and back up again, leaving a wet trail along its length.

“Oh, shit,” Greg breathed. He closed his eyes to concentrate on his other senses. He could smell the faint sweat they were building up mixing with their musky colognes; he could hear the rustling of the satin sheets beneath them and their ragged breathing; and he could taste some of the alcohol on his tongue and a saltiness of sweat on his lips. But nothing was as strong as what he could feel: Mycroft shifting between his legs, his tongue lazily digging into the slit of his cock; and Mycroft’s breaths shatter over his pelvis as his hands held down his hips against the mattress.

Greg squirmed, feeling overwhelmed. Another moan left his mouth and he threw his head back with an audible thud. Mycroft was sliding his tongue back down the shaft, but not back up – he was sliding it over Greg’s balls to his arsehole where it teased around the puckered muscle.

“Oh, Greg,” Mycroft hummed, a smile clear in his voice. “You are gorgeous.” He let one of his hands slide down to gently cup Greg’s balls as his tongue swirled around but never straight over the entrance.

As Greg slowly began to relax, Mycroft lapped at him more vigorously. Soon the tip of his tongue pressed against the hole and slowly slid in. Greg fisted the sheets and inhaled sharply. It was by no means uncomfortable, it was overwhelmingly arousing and it made Greg impossibly harder.

“Mycroft,” he grunted through clenched teeth.

Mycroft glanced up with a self-satisfied smile, retracting his tongue in doing so but keeping his hand busy with giving Greg’s erection a few light strokes.

“Yes, dear?”

Greg lifted his head off the mattress. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked absolutely dishevelled.

“Fuck me already, would you?” his voice was trembling, as were his legs under Mycroft’s free hand.

“Certainly,” Mycroft placed a kiss on the inside of Greg’s thigh and straightened himself between them. He moved closer so his cock was rubbing against Greg’s. He grabbed his own and directed it to line up with Greg’s soft arse. “Relax,” he whispered soothingly and slicked himself up with his spit.

Greg took a deep breath and felt how Mycroft’s head slowly slid inside him. Mycroft took his time to let Greg adjust. They’d done it several times before, but it was always much nicer in the end if they were both prepared.

Greg got up on his elbows and looked down between his legs where Mycroft’s soft pubic hair was brushing against his balls. The sight made his stiff cock twitch and he reached out to stroke it. The touch was more than welcome and his breath caught when his fingers slid over the head and back down.

“Oh, Greg,” Mycroft cooed as the rest of his erection disappeared into the slick hole. “It’s so nice and warm inside you.” He started rolling his hips back and forth in short movements to let Greg loosen up some more.

The bed beneath them creaked as Mycroft gradually made his thrusts longer, to the point of almost slipping out. Greg had fallen back against the mattress and lay panting, wordlessly letting small sounds out of his mouth along with his breaths. His hand had stopped working his cock and lay motionlessly at his side. Mycroft leaned forward onto his hands and looked into Greg’s eyes as he felt the man beneath him start to tense.

“Together, Gregory,” he whispered.

Greg could feel Mycroft start to tense as well and did what he could to hold on. He raised his arms and wrapped them around Mycroft’s neck. Mycroft leaned further down and planed his lips against Greg’s. What they did could hardly be called kissing because neither was putting effort into it; their lips were pressed together but neither open nor moving. They were just trying to concentrate on something else than their cocks, but it wasn’t working. If anything, it made it worse.

“Ah, fuck,” Greg moaned and shut his eyes tight. “I can’t--- Mycroft.”

Mycroft quickened his pace and hardened his thrusts. His mouth fell open, his eyes closed and his hands grabbed the sheets around Greg as he tried his hardest to come with Greg. But Greg was already tipping over the edge. He gasped into Mycroft’s neck as his muscles contracted around his lover’s cock. Thick stripes of semen shot out of his untouched, oversensitive cock onto his stomach. Mycroft wasn’t far behind, though. As soon as Greg exhaustedly fell back into the crumpled sheets, Mycroft shuddered and stilled. He emptied himself in Greg’s arse without second thought and stayed inside him until he’d caught his breath. His arms were shaking uncontrollably and he had to stop leaning against them.

Greg looked up at Mycroft as he straightened again and smiled. No words were needed for how good that had felt. Greg couldn’t remember the last time he’d come without being touched. And Mycroft couldn’t remember when he’d let his guard down so completely and just gone with the flow of things.

Before being able to relax to his heart’s content, Mycroft pulled out and shuffled off the bed to grab one of the discarded shirts off the floor. He wiped himself with it before crawling back onto the bed to pad it against Greg’s arse. His semen was slowly trickling out of the still twitching hole.

“Dear lord, that’s arousing,” Mycroft hummed as he watched Greg work out the last drops.

Greg smiled sheepishly and reached for the shirt to wipe off his stomach. Mycroft lay down on his stomach next to him and watched Greg throw the shirt aside. He let his eyes follow every movement of Greg’s left hand. The ring glinted in the dim moonlight streaming through the French windows.

“It fits you perfectly,” he said and grabbed the hand it was decorating. He kissed the back of it and entwined his fingers with Greg’s.

“You have excellent taste,” Greg said. “And yours will fit you just as well.”

“Yes, but I chose this with only you in mind: silver for my silver fox.”

Mycroft shifted to his side and kissed Greg.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wish to spread this on tumblr, please reblog it from me: [lustfullygazing](http://lustfullygazing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
